


The Demon King

by NihilisticMystic



Series: The Gods are Dead [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Explicit Language, Magical Realism, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 04:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NihilisticMystic/pseuds/NihilisticMystic
Summary: The land of Hyrule has always been blessed with verdant fields and peace. But there exists a secret even the Goddesses fear told. In this first story, a young Ganondorf will discover dark secrets so terrible, it will make you question which gods you choose to worship.





	The Demon King

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys  
This is my first time writing anything and am hoping to get some feedback on this piece. This is a going to be a bit of an undertaking for me, since i have quite a bit in mind for this already so sincerly, any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated! Im a lifelong Zelda fan and look forward to hopefully being more active in the fandom!

**Prologue**

A fierce wind blew across the desert. Despite the sun hanging low in the sky, the wind was still blisteringly hot. Even in the dead of night, the Haunted Wasteland was cursed with unbearable heat. Where in the neighboring land of Hyrule, such a wind might promise a brief respite from an uncomfortably warm sun, the wind in the desert always brought with it more of the same: death. 

Despite this, and the myriad of things that would keep a normal, sane being from attempting to live in such a hostile territory, there exists a proud tribe, forged in the fires of the desert to become some of the most dangerous warriors in the land. The Gerudo, a tribe consisting of only females with the exception of their leader, a male born but once every hundred years. But no matter their martial might, the Gerudo were facing a threat they could not even fight, let alone have the remotest hope of winning against. Most of the Gerudo didn’t even realize there was such an enemy; all but one.

Varnohk Dragmire kept a steady pace into the desert twilight. The wind beat a steady rhythm against his cleanly shaven face, tousling the shoulder length red hair emblematic of his tribe. Off in the distance, his pointed ears could hear the sounds of revelry echoing off of the walls of the large fortress his people called home.

This was to be a day of great jubilation for all; a day celebrating the coronation of Varnohk as the Gerudo’s prophesied leader and the arrival of the harvest from the Hylian Royal Family, supplementing their already difficult to maintain food stores. There was to be a quick trip to the royal castle to pay homage to the reigning King of Hyrule then, Varnohk would return to his people, having secured their posterity for the near future. It was a trip every leader before him had to make on the day that they received their crown; and one he would have to make many times in the future in order to ensure his people’s continued survival.

Even without the yearly delivery of food stuffs from the gracious Hylians, there is no way the Gerudo could ever hope to exist without their aid. The Gerudo, being all women, were unable to reproduce on their own. In exchange for supplementing their food, the Hylians also made an arrangement to help replenish the Gerudo’s numbers; Hylian platoons would have the Gerudo Fortress added to their regular rotation, where the soldiers would “relieve their stress” onto fertile young Gerudo. This, however, was just the “on-paper” rule. Hylian men of all sorts, not just the soldiers, came and went as they pleased; claiming to be there to “help save the tribe any way that we can”, but really, just indulging in their more baser wants and needs. These men, repugnant as they may be, were not entirely wrong in their reasoning; the Gerudo did in fact need to as much help as possible to keep their numbers up, so they tacitly allow them to do so. For reasons of safety, a booming economy in brothels sprung up. Most of the Hylian visitors were simple farmers; if they didn’t have enough money, any food stuffs they could supply would suffice. Every little bit helped and every Gerudo viewed it as her duty to her tribeswomen to do whatever they had to to ensure the well being of the tribe.

Continuing deeper into the Wasteland, Varnohk allowed his mind to wander back to his meeting with the King of Hyrule. He had presented himself, pledging the renewed fealty of the Gerudo to the Hylian Royal Family. The King, his Queen and the Royal Heir, Prince Daphnes, had received him kindly enough, even going so far as to present him with a simple, yet still nonetheless impressive topaz to affix to his crown of thin gold in honor of his own royal appointment. After all of the festivities, however, the King had taken him aside, privately and made sure Varnohk had left with a thorough understanding of the exact ins and outs of the arrangement; what exactly it was costing his people. 

Varnohk had arrived home from the castle to the sounds of cheering and laughter and joy from the women and children of his tribe. For their sake, he plastered a fake grin upon his face. He smiled fakely as he arrived with food and medicine; he smiled fakely through his mother’s endearing speech at his coronation feast, which ended when the Sacred Priestesses of his tribe placed his crown upon his brow for the first time; he smiled fakely up until the moment he slipped out of the feast hall and into the desert night. Sure, the women of his tribe had a basic understanding of how things worked. They knew what they put up with was vital for their future, but had they actually known what that future was costing them, would they be content with the status quo?

Had his own father come to learn the truth of his people’s predicament as he had, during his own pilgrimage to the capitol? Had he wandered the desert as forlorn as Varnohk was now? How had he handled the truth? All of these questions burned through his mind the same way the ceaseless desert wind burned his hawk like nose. However, one burned brighter than the rest: why had he not done anything about it? Never once in the entirety of his rule had his father implemented any sort of change to the status quo. Varnohk had spent most of his childhood at his father’s side, learning what it would mean for him to lead his people in the future. But all of his memories were of a man who would passively allow the Hylians to encroach upon their ever shrinking territory; to allow them to come in the night and take women as they pleased. His father was a broken man and an ineffectual leader; everything he was now determined to be the opposite of. He could not, would not stand by as his people withered and died like everything else is this hellish desert. He was not sure how, nor when, but his people would rise up from the Haunted Wasteland; a desert storm more fearsome and deadly than any to have struck the land in history. And before this storm would stand Varnohk. His rule would be spoken of as the beginning of the resurgence of the Gerudo.

His head full of thoughts of grandeur, he had not even noticed he had wandered to the massive Desert Colossus, an enormous statue that housed the Spirit Temple, his tribe’s most sacred of holy places. Varnohk had spent much of his childhood here, under the tutelage of his tribe’s ancient order of priestesses. His days were a mix of martial training with the traditional weapon of Gerudo leadership, the trident, and learning to tap into the magic inherit to the rare male Gerudo. Any spare time he had was either spent studying the history of his people or back in the Gerudo Fortress, attending council meetings with his father in order to learn how to rule. The Spirit Temple was as much his home as it was his school; it was no wonder his weary, pain stricken mind had taken him automatically to where he felt most secure.

He crossed the threshold into the temple and immediately noticed something in the distance that should not have been: the light of a torch. All of the Gerudo, including all of the priestesses, should have been back at the fortress, celebrating at the feast. The Spirit Temple should’ve been completely deserted. Guardedly, Varnohk moved to investigate.

He followed the single light at the end of the otherwise pitchblack hallway until he had found himself outside a large room containing only a single lit torch and large stone table and several chairs. Upon this table sat a women, but this was not one of the Gerudo priestesses. For one, her hair was not the traditional orange-red but a burning fire like red on one side and a snowy white on the other. He stepped into the room as guardedly as ever. One of the first lessons he had committed to memory was to never allow your foe even the slightest edge.

“Who are you?”, Varnohk inquired. The mysterious woman simply stood up and smiled coyly at him, accentuating her beautiful features. She said nothing but in her right hand she conjured a large ball of flame and flung it rapidly towards his face.

Drawing the trident strapped diagonally across his back, he batted the fireball aside. The woman cast another and another at him. His fury increasing with each projectile he hit away, he rushed toward his attacker and sent her sprawling to the floor with a heavy blow from the end of his weapon. Varnohk brought the business end of the trident down but a few inches from her throat. Still saying nothing, she met the glint of the cold steel before her with the same frustrating smile upon her face. He met her coy smile with a steely gaze that spoke to his deadly intentions.

“I have killed for crimes far less serious than trespassing on my tribe’s holy ground. I ask you once again and for the last time: who are you?” To her credit, the stranger did not flinch but had obviously decided that the game was over.

“Why, I am here for you, Chief Varnohk. You are as skillful with your weapon as I have heard. Forgive me, I merely wished to see with my own eyes. I have been waiting for some time for you and had grown quite bored. You appear to have something on your mind, was the celebration not to your liking? I can imagine it was a rather bitter sweet occasion, judging by how your meeting with His Royal Highness went.” Varnohk held fast, keeping his weapon pointed squarely at the woman’s throat.

“I do not know what you think you know, woman, but I see no reason for me to allow you to leave my people’s sacred temple with your life.” he said swiftly. Varnohk thrust his trident but faster than he could possibly have reacted to, the woman had disappeared and reappeared behind him, with her arms draped over his shoulders. Her face was inches from his ear.

“I know much and more, my dear. I know that your people are in peril. I know your desire to see this great injustice corrected. And I know how you can get the justice you seek.” He spun around, bringing his trident around to point in the opposite direction but she had disappeared again. She reappeared, taking her former place upon the table.

“The Gerudo are in trouble, aren’t they? Every one of them is in danger and is totally oblivious to it aren’t they?” The woman let loose a cackle. Varnohk lowered his weapon and faced her. It was clear this woman did know something. Despite her witchcraft, he was confident in his ability to match her in combat, so he allowed her to continue.

“How could you know such a thing?” Smiling coyly once again, she stretched, resting her palms on the table behind her. He approached her, ever weary of another disappearing act followed by another deluge of fireballs.

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in the future of the Gerudo people. I have great respect for the women that make up your tribe. I can think of no greater shame than for your proud people to be left to fend for itself against a world that would use and abuse them for their many gifts.” She did not move but looked deep into Varnohk’s eyes. He met her mismatched blue and red gaze.

“My people do face a great threat,  _ extinction _ I dare say, if things are allowed to continue as they are.” He was not sure why he had decided to share this with the mysterious woman. Perhaps it was a symptom of his overburdened mind. “I cannot permit myself to make the same mistakes my father made. I must discover some way to save my people. It is my duty and mine alone. Even if I believed you had some sort of insight into this, I would not accept your assistance” She stood up, frowning.

“My, that’s rather dismissive of you. Although, I suppose being ‘the only male born every hundred years’ has the side effect of making you a bit up your own ass.” Varnohk glared at her, she had touched upon a nerve.

“Speak then, witch. How could you possibly help us?” His ire had risen so high in his throat, he spat out each word as if they contained venom. She appeared suddenly, mere inches from his face.

“So impatient. Very well, it would be simpler to show you, in any case.” As soon as she had finished speaking, her hands grasped the sides of Varnohk’s head. Before he could utter even a cry of protestation, his mind was filled with images of fire, of war and death. Images of the Hylian Royal Family disgraced and deposed from power. Dead in their own beds. Images of the women of his tribe prospering on the lush, verdant fields they had been forbidden from settling since time immemorial, far from the harsh winds of the Haunted Wasteland. And finally images of a mighty warrior. A man would would slaughter all who opposed him and his people. Varnohk could see the man defeat foe after foe, each more deadly than the last. He met every challenge clad in armor as black as the void and wielding the ceremonial trident of his lineage. This was the man that would lead his people to glory. However, this man was not him. He never was able to get a clear enough look at his face but by the end of the visions, he knew with total certainty that this was a destiny meant for another.

The witch released him and he fell to his knees. His gasps for breath were quick and shallow.

“I command ancient magics, powers you can only dream of, Varnohk. I used those powers to show you an image of a potential future, one where the Gerudo are the supreme force across the land.” Her smile ever present on her face, the woman returned to her favored place upon the table. Varnohk rose shakily to his feet.

“How? What must I do to make this future come to pass?” His voice had lost all of the royal arrogance it had once held, replaced with a quiet desperation. The desperation of an entire people.

“You are noble, and you will prove to be a much more wise and worthy ruler than your tepid father ever was, I have seen this in my visions. However, I know you noticed that the man who would lead your people to glory was not you. You lack the raw innate abilities necessary to become as powerful as that one.” He couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed, despite himself. What he wanted more than anything was to secure the future of his people. If his father had one redeeming quality as a chief, it was that he instilled, not only in Varnohk, but in all of the people who looked to him for leadership that everyone must commit to the greater good, even at the cost of personal glory.

“What must I do? If it is not my destiny to free my people, tell me whose is and I will ensure their success. Where is this man?” Finding a measure of the old haughtiness back in his voice, he finally sheathed his weapon across his back again, relaxing for the first time since he had left for Hyrule Castle. He moved a few steps closer to the woman.

There was a genuine smile upon her face now, lacking all of the infuriating arrogance from before. “You put too much on yourself. That man needs only one thing from you. He is your royal heir, the son you were always destined to have. The fiercest and most powerful of his line, the one to take back Hyrule for the Gerudo.”

“ _ My  _ son?” Varnohk exclaimed. Despite the upset, his shocked mind was still quick enough to follow the breadcrumbs she had left him. “You said I lacked the innate abilities required to meet that man’s potential. If I am his father, then who is the mother?” The witch smiled and raised a fiery red eyebrow. “You’re pretty quick, however, not quick enough it seems.” Her smile was once again filled with its former arrogance. Filled with sudden rage, he quickly drew his trident and flung it at the wall, missing her face by inches. She once again did not flinch.

“Enough games!” shouted Varnohk. “Every moment we waste discussing this, my people grow weaker. They suffer without even knowing it and the only man with the ability to do anything about it isn’t set to be born for nearly a hundred years, if your sorcery is to be believed. We do not have that kind of time!”

“You are correct, your time is shorter than you would expect. But use your brain, if the Hylian Royal Family catches word of your heir being born ahead of THEIR schedule… we both know what they would be willing to do to keep the record straight” she replied with a sigh. “He would have to be born and raised outside of their ever present gaze, totally isolated even from the rest of his tribe, until the time is right, if he is to be successful. I will beget you this child and raise him as my own, here in the Spirit Temple. You will tell all but a few of your most trusted priestesses that the Temple is now considered abandoned. There is a great power that permeates these walls and your son must be allowed to learn without interference. I will instruct him on how to tap into his natural talents. With his abilities and my guidance, he will become a force that will make even the gods quaver in fear.” 

Varnohk had taken in each of her words. His response came to his lips quicker than thought, but with an assurance born of a man committed to his decision.

“The Gerudo will not suffer under my rule. I will see them free from the bonds that shackle them to inadequacy. If my life must be spent only as a part of the greater whole, positioning my son so that he may carry on this dream to fruition, so be it.” The witch smile shifted into something more seductive and she used her magic to forcefully pull him within inches of her body.

“Then let us set them free, my lord. Let the rage of your ancestors flow through your body and into me. Let that hate become the man who would set the world ablaze.” she whispered seductively in his ear as he pushed her against the table and climbed astride her. Varnohk shut his eyes and allowed himself to feel the fury of his ancient Gerudo foremothers within himself. In his rage, he could see his inept, passive father, allowing the people under his rule to continue to fall into squallor. He could see the Royal Court of Hyrule as they were earlier that day, laughing him out of their court. He seethed in this hatred, letting it simmer in him until it began to rise up from the pit of his being, filling his every fiber like a cleansing fire.

As the pair stripped off their clothing and began to consummate their union, Varnohk could almost hear what sounded like faint, triumphant laughter echoing off the stone walls of the temple.


End file.
